


When Heaven was shut.

by Deeno



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post s08ep23
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 20:27:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/957280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deeno/pseuds/Deeno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Letting go isn't as easy as one would have hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever attempt at fanfiction and I am posting it here short chapter by short chapter so that I can gradually finish it rather than leave it saved on my computer halfway through and never look at it again like I do with every other piece of my writing. _All_ feedback is greatly appreciated since this is the first time I am sharing a piece of writing with people who aren't my English teacher looking for a creative writing essay. So if you feel like leaving any sort of comment _please do_. And enjoy!

Cas' foot caught in a tree root. He stumbled forward exhausted, his reflexes too slow for his arms to come forward in time and break his fall, instead he landed face flat on the ground, his cheek hitting a rock, skin peeling off, pine needles stabbing into his chin, and by _god_ did that burn. Tears gathered in his eyes, or rather in the one eye that wasn't swollen shut and infected with pus. He could taste blood in his mouth and he desperately wanted to spit it out but he had neither the strength nor saliva to do that and so he lay there, half his face burning with the pain of the wounds bleeding into the mud, his eye blind and infected, himself thirsty, so thirsty his throat hurt and his head pounded, and hungry, so hungry that his body felt like a massive hole that was threatening to collapse in on itself. It reminded Cas of black holes and how sometimes they were created by stars collapsing in on themselves, he never liked black holes, they seemed to swallow up all that was familiar and homely and beautiful. 

 

But worst of all was the fear he felt. It seemed to take over his whole body making him shake from top to bottom, making his breaths catch raw and rough in his throat as he tried to exhale, cold spots creep down his spine, make his palms sweat, his eyes fill up. And as if that wasn't enough Cas realised that it wasn't dying he was afraid of, dying would have been the most obvious thing to be afraid  of at such a time, and it also wasn't fear of the death by thirst or hunger, no it was worse, Cas was afraid because of how strange, how unknown and foreign thirst and hunger felt. He had never felt thirst or hunger or lack of sleep in his entire life. He had seen the first living cell on the planet and he had watched it grow into the first organism, he had watched it develop and change and grow into various organisms, he had watched it become plants and animals, watched it develop spines, watched it become mammals and birds and other creatures. He had watched the first man on the planet, and then watched as that man became humanity, he had lived a long time and had seen and heard a lot, yet he had never felt the simple everyday things such as thirst and hunger and sleep deprivation. He had never cried before. And the utter foreignness of it scared him.

 

He dragged himself up slowly, it seemed like the most tiring task he had ever performed. First the legs, he told himself, dragging his knees underneath him, then the head, he thought as he raised his forehead from the ground, from there it was simple; elbows, then straighten your back, sit up, and just a little push, bring your knees upwards and you're standing again. He went through this list in his head every time and with each fall, and as they became more and more frequent, he started doubting if he'd get up again. He stopped thinking somewhere along the way, it just became a thing he did; fall and get up, fall and get up, and wander aimlessly through the trees towards - towards what? Cas had only one though, towards Dean, towards Dean to beg for forgiveness, to collapse at his feet and cry and beg Dean for forgiveness which he knew he didn't deserve, which he knew he would now never deserve. It was too late to aim for anything else, to late for false hope of fixing heaven and so this was the only one thought that he stuck to.

 

He wandered blindly -one eye still infected shut, the other just too exhausted to stay open- so he didn't notice when the forest ended and opened up into an asphalt road. And he still didn't notice, not even when he flew two metres forward and landed on his back, not even when his arm bent the wrong way, not even when his bone came up and broke through the skin of his shin, not even when the scream that escaped him was too loud for him to hear, not even when it brought up blood and bile, not even when the car's tyres screeched to a stop right beside his head. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letting go isn't as easy as one would have hoped.

 

Dean shoved a pile of books onto the floor. They were just sitting there on the table not doing anything and he hated them so much for it. He made his way to the kitchen pissed and raging. He filled a bowl with lukewarm water and dug around for a dish-towel, then he placed them on a tray along with a cup of coffee and made his way back. He stopped outside the door to Sam's room and took a deep, calming breath. He straightened his back and walked in.

 

"Hey Sammy, how you doing?"

 

Sam rolled from his side onto his back, his eyes barely open, he looked up at Dean and the corners of his mouth twitched up into a tiny smile. They came back down immediately though and he turned quickly with his head over the edge of the bed and vomited into the bucket by his bedside. Dean walked over quickly placing the tray in his chair beside the bed, he helped hold Sam up as he vomited- to his surprise his brother didn't protest this time, instead he just collapsed into Dean's arms, he was really burning up. Dean placed the damp dish-towel on Sam's forehead and Sam opened his mouth to say something, but he couldn't muster up the strength for words so he just sank back into his pillow and closed his eyes, he didn't mean for it, but  a single painful groan escaped him. Dean wet the dish-towel again and placed it back on Sam's forehead, he placed a thermometer into Sam's mouth and then leaned over the bed to inspect the contents of the bucket. 

 

_Shit!_

 

More blood than usual.

 

He took the thermometer out after a few minutes.

 

"One-oh-three point six."

 

Sam shook his head in protest.

 

"Look Sammy I know we agreed on one-oh-four but I'm not letting you die here, I'm taking you to the hospital now."

 

"Dean, I'm fine" he was barely coherent. "I'm feeling quite chilly actually."

 

  
_All the more reason!_  Dean wanted to say, but instead his insides melted, his heart sank, and he could taste his morning coffee making its way back up into his mouth. He just wanted to break down and cry and hold his brother because he knew that no hospital could help him. He was broken beyond the repairs of an angel, what could a few doctors who didn't believe in all that supernatural and magic crap do for him? Nothing, that's what. They could stuff Sam full of meds all day and put him on a drip, but Dean had already tried those and Sam still seemed to get worse. Desperate, he had tried spells and and rituals and nothing worked. Sammy was going to die and that's that. He just wanted to hold him and cry and then drink some whiskey and drive himself off a cliff. But he didn't hold his brother, or cry, because he was Dean Winchester and Dean Winchester didn't do feely shit like that, no matter how bad he hurt. Instead he took his coffee, walked out of the room, and smashed the cup against the wall. He leaned back and sighed.

 

He was reminded of that time when Sammy was four and came down with a really bad flu. Their dad was hunting a wendigo nearby and was only supposed to be gone for a night or two but he got into some complications and ended up being gone for ten days. That's when Sammy came down with the flu and Dean was panicking because he didn't know what to do, didn't know how to save his little brother. Dean didn't know what to do or how to save his little brother now either. He felt the same hopelessness he hadn't felt for all those years. Luckily John came back and took care of Sammy until he started to get better. He had come in on an eight year old Dean throwing stuff at a wall with frustration and for the first time in years he had walked over and wrapped his arms around his eldest son and kissed his hair and said "Everything will be fine. I'm here now." But John wasn't coming to the rescue this time. John was dead. And pretty soon Sam would be too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _All_ feedback greatly appreciated since this is my first attempt at writing a fanfiction and I want to make it a good one. If you can add any sort of comment _please do_ , all comments are welcomed and I will love you for it!


End file.
